Alan and Barbara are the owners of the Guest House. We are very fortunate with their attitudes toward food and it’s importance in the overall experience here. They are both hunters and as such have a real appreciation for where food comes from. I know that might sound contradictory but a true hunter has a great respect for the animals that he/she hunts. They use the animals for food, either for themselves and their guides in camp or donating the carcass to a nearby village. They do mount trophies on their walls as a remembrance, but a good hunter can tell you the particular story of each trophy on their wall down to the very last detail. Conservation is important to them because if the animals disappear, there is nothing left to hunt. It is very similar to the chefs who are active in sustainable agriculture and slow food. The attitude is that you have to protect the things that you want to enjoy, whether it be a game bird or an apple tree. I’ve learned a lot about hunting in the last few years and the attitudes that swirl around it always amaze me. There are avid fishermen that think shooting an animal is inhumane. There are people that eat meat every day who think that hunting is appalling, although apparently shooting a cow between the eyes in a slaughterhouse is fine. Certainly there are unethical hunters as there are unethical chefs but the true sportsman is no one to throw stones at. We should save our stones for hypocrites and vigilantes.
We often cook for hunters at the Guest House. They tend to have simpler tastes than the food connoisseur, no foams or fancy architecture needed, although a surprising number of them are wine enthusiasts. Alan falls into this category. He loves good simple food and fine wines. Anyone looking at our wine list can see his preference for red wines in general and France in particular. Bordeaux reds are his winter preference, Burgundian reds are his summertime stand-by, whites from Burgundy are the norm. In spite of this favoritism, he is branching out all of the time and experimenting with wines from around the world. Working with him has been educational and enlightening for both of us. He demands good food in general but our food is a bit “precious” for him. Every once in awhile he needs plain steamed Dungeness crab meat with melted butter or a thick steak and potatoes followed by chocolate pudding. He is more concerned with complexity in his wine than in his food. That mentality helps to keep us focused and our egos in check.
But what does this have to do with black leg ham? For those not in the know, black leg ham comes from Spain. Like many wonderful food products, it is illegal to import into this country. The best are produced in the Southwestern regions of Spain and allowed to roam through the mountain forests living off acorns from the cork oak trees. The diet of acorns produces some crystal inclusions within the meat that is looked upon as a proof of authenticity. The highest caliber of Iberian ham is produced from native black leg pigs, who are characterized by their ability to build up fatty deposits within the muscle fibers. There are different levels of ham, mostly differentiated by the feeding process, but suffice it to say that a true black leg ham is extremely expensive and hard to locate, even in Spain. They are not beautiful. In fact, they look blackened, moldy and shriveled to the uneducated eye. They are the polar opposite of Italian Prosciutto’s sweet and tender profile. The meat is intensely flavored, chewy, buttery, nutty, earthy and complex. Its flesh is much darker than it’s Italian counterpart although they do share the traditional layer of fat and the intense admiration of their followers. True Iberian hams are sought after for their dark, musky flavors and for their almost total lack of availability here in the States.
Did I mention that we were eating one the other night? Two years ago Alan and Barbara were hunting in Spain. We mentioned the hams before they left and Alex, being Alex, asked them to smuggle one back for us. As it turns out, Alan ate Iberian ham almost every night that he was in Spain. It became one of the highlights of his trip. Every restaurant and bar had one on the counter and although the quality may have fluctuated from place to place, his enjoyment did not. He loved that ham. The end result was that he finally tracked down a very expensive store that carried true, acorn fed black leg hams, purchased one and smuggled it back to Colorado for us. It was amazing, made more so by the fact that he took the time and trouble to bring it back to us. We set it up on the bar in a jamonero that first night and carved slices for everyone to enjoy. This ham is a precious thing. When they leave we wrap it up ion cheesecloth and hang it in the walk-in. It’s lasted for two years because we only use it when they’re here. Not because they asked us to save it for them but because Alan enjoys it so much. Each time he comes out he asks us if we’ve finished it, but how could we? A present like that is meant to be shared with the giver, it is symbolic in so many different ways. Things can get crazy out here. There are the fluctuating tides of a new business, new staff, new ideas, new challenges as everything changes all of the time. But on those evenings when we eat the ham together, even if we are in the kitchen and he is the dining room with guests, it reminds us of the relationship underneath it all. Mutual enthusiasm, respect and genuine affection are hard to come by. We are lucky to have found all of these things here, in this place with these people. Whether we stay on for a day or for years, we appreciate the relationships found here that are so hard to come by.